


Meet Tomorrow If You Choose

by Dira Sudis (dsudis)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Age Regression/De-Aging, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Magic, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 20:48:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3910129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsudis/pseuds/Dira%20Sudis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Not quite like the other me, huh," Steve said, because there was no point pretending.</p><p>"Nah, actually I was thinking I can see it," Sam said. "The way you stand--you <em>project</em>, you know? Like in a way you really always were the big guy, just your body took a while to catch up."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meet Tomorrow If You Choose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adamant-cap (lokkelaufeysdottir)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokkelaufeysdottir/gifts).



> Thanks to Iulia for beta and to feanorinleatherpants and Rubynye for encouragement! 
> 
> Adamant-Cap, somehow this was the first thing I thought of when I saw "age regression" and "age difference" in your request. I hope you like it! :D

Steve had woken up with Bucky sitting by his bed, which wasn't strange. Bucky was dozing with his cheek in one hand, his hair all out of place and half-shielding his face. Steve just had time to wonder where his ma was and remember she wasn't going to come to his sickbed ever again, and then Bucky picked his head up and everything started going sideways.

Bucky was _old_. Thirty, at least. 

"Hey, pal," Bucky said. "I can see you already know something's gone funny. You know what year it is?"

"I'm guessing not 1937," Steve said, raising his hands to touch his own face, but it felt normal. His hands felt normal. His body, when he pushed himself up to sit, looked the same as ever, skinny and pale but all in one piece. He had bruises on his knees he didn't remember getting, but that was nothing new. Nothing else hurt too bad, and he didn't feel feverish or like his fever had just broken, either. He felt pretty good, actually, like he'd just woken up from a long restful sleep. 

Bucky huffed a tired little laugh. "Yeah. It's not 1937."

* * *

Bucky explained it to him, as best it could be explained, so it still sounded like something out of _Astounding Stories_ , although Bucky showed him enough gadgets and newspapers that Steve knew it was true. He was in the year 2015, and he hadn't exactly traveled in time to get there. 

He'd just been transformed into a super-soldier, frozen in ice, thawed out and revived, reunited with Bucky who'd been _separately_ transformed into a super-soldier, lost his regular arm and got a metal one, got frozen a whole bunch of times and hypnotized by the bad guys into believing he was one of them until Steve found him and set him straight. Apparently it all made perfectly good sense until Steve got hit with a burst of magic that zapped him back to age nineteen, undoing his super-soldier physique and all his memories of everything that had happened since.

"The docs say you're pretty healthy for you," Bucky concluded, waving a hand at Steve on the bed. If anyone else had said something like that Steve would have bristled, but Bucky knew his ups and downs as well as Steve did. "But they want you to stay with somebody who has some medical training in case you do get sick, which is handy because..."

Bucky trailed off, and Steve said, "I'm guessing it's not because you trained as a doctor somewhere in all of that."

Bucky gave a weird smile, his lips twisting up but his eyes staying serious as he shook his head. "Yeah, you're not staying with me. This is--we all knew I had to be the one to talk to you first, but it's not... I wouldn't be good company for you right now, Stevie, okay? But I thought I oughta be the one to tell you..."

"Bucky, stop stalling," Steve demanded, trying to quell his own sense of dread. It couldn't be anything bad; there must be somebody. He was a hero in the future, of course he'd have somebody. He must have had his pick of somebodies, must have married a pretty nurse or--

"I don't think you've gotten around to telling me yet," Bucky said. "But you will, and it wasn't some big surprise when you did. I always knew you had as much of an eye for the fellas as the ladies, okay?"

Steve opened and closed his mouth a couple of times and then shut it firmly, pressing his lips together and glaring down at his hands. It wasn't Bucky's fault that magic had taken away Steve's chance to get up the guts to tell him the truth. It hadn't even done that, really, because somewhere in the future--not the future from here, but the future from what Steve remembered--he _did_ tell. 

Then the implication hit, and Steve picked his head up to give Bucky a wide-eyed look, his heart beating faster. "Are you saying--I got a fella now?"

Bucky smiled for real at that. "Yeah, you do. His name's Sam, he's ex-Air Force and he used to do pararescue--jumping out of perfectly good planes to find injured people and help 'em--so he's good at first aid and about crazy enough to like running around after you."

The words honestly didn't make sense for a minute--Bucky had said them all out of order--and then Steve remembered. In the future he was a hero. In the future a soldier who rescued people by jumping out of planes followed _Steve_ around.

Steve looked down at himself. Sam was going to be pretty disappointed to see the pre-hero version of him--to say nothing of the fact that Steve was hardly more than a kid. 

"Here," Bucky said, holding out a little black rectangle that was a telephone and a dozen other things, more fantastical than anything in _Astounding_. It wasn't the one Bucky had shown him before, but similar. "This is your phone, and here's a picture of you and Sam being nuts about each other."

Sam was a black man, which was startling but also fiercely pleasing. He was also _gorgeous_ , looking at Steve and grinning with dimples and a gap between his front teeth. In the picture Steve was the future hero version, of course. Steve didn't look too closely at that strange reflection of himself, but he could see that he was smiling, looking back at Sam the same way Sam was looking at him. They had their arms slung around each other.

They were outside somewhere. In public, in sunlight. Sam was wearing some kind of complicated harness, and Steve was wearing something blue with a bright white star on his chest.

Steve looked up at Bucky, who was studying him carefully. 

"Sam's ma has a copy of that picture framed on the wall of her living room," Bucky said. "You and Sam gave it to her for Mother's Day this year."

Steve stared at Bucky, looked down at the picture, and back up. "She--she--"

"She knows," Bucky said. "Sam's little sister and brother know. Sam's nieces and nephews call you Uncle Steve. And also about six hundred million people have seen that picture and all of _them_ know, too."

"Six," Steve repeated, dazed, because Bucky wasn't making any sense again. "Hundred."

"Yeah," Bucky said. "You're famous, you know? People take an interest, pal."

There was a short knock at the door and then it opened, and--oh God, it was Sam, looking in with a hesitant smile as he said, "Hey, how's--hey, you're up."

He smiled at Steve, _beamed_ , with that same bright happy look as the Sam in the picture, but this time he wasn't looking at some famous hero with a star on his chest. He was looking at Steve.

Steve stared back at him, awestruck. Sam wasn't just going to be a hero sometime in the future after he got scientifically improved into one--Sam was a hero already, fully human and brave about it, and Sam had convinced his family, to say nothing of six hundred million strangers, to accept Steve as his lover, and--his smile was really gorgeous.

"Okay, yeah," Bucky said. "I'm just--I'll seeya, Stevie, have a good time getting to know Sam again, okay?"

"Yeah," Steve said, dragging his gaze off of Sam to see Bucky standing up. "You'll be around?"

"I'll be," Bucky made a vague hand gesture that Steve had no trouble decoding as _doing something I don't want you to scold me about so I'm not gonna say it out loud_ , "around."

Steve thought about being distracted by that, but his gaze wandered irresistibly back to Sam, who had actually come all the way into the room now. God, he was _big_ and gorgeous and still smiling right at Steve, and he was holding--oh. Clothes.

Steve looked down at himself and the hospital gown he was wearing and blushed hotly.

"So I guess Bucky told you how you know me?" Sam asked. When Steve looked up again Sam was _right there_ and Steve jumped a little, because he hadn't heard Sam walk up to him. 

Sam rocked back on his heels, and Steve nodded quickly before Sam could actually move away. "I, uh, yeah, he said we're--" 

Steve was aware that he was turning bright red, but Sam didn't laugh at him, and his smile didn't look mocking at all. 

"Yeah," Sam agreed, not making Steve finish his sentence. "But look, I know as far as you're concerned we're basically strangers, so don't sweat it, okay? We can just hang out together, no pressure. I can show you around 2015 a little bit. I have a pretty good idea which stuff you'll like the most. And, here, I'll let you get dressed."

Sam set the clothes down on top of the blankets covering Steve's right knee while Steve was still trying to figure out how to say _all that's making me sweat is how much I wanna kiss you._

Maybe that was weird. Forward, or something. Which one of them was supposed to worry about seeming fast when they were both guys? And did that even mean anything, when the version of him in the future already _knew_ Sam in apparently every way including the Biblical?

"Sure," Steve muttered, reaching for the clothes. 

Sam took a step back. "I'll knock before I come back in."

Steve nodded again and looked up as soon as Sam turned away. He wore his pants a lot tighter than Steve was used to seeing, and it was an awfully nice view.

When the door closed behind Sam, Steve actually looked at the clothes. There was a pair of rough work pants in dark blue and an undershirt of bright red. There were socks and drawers with them, but nothing else. He guessed they weren't going far. He got dressed and found that the pants fit him nearly as tightly as Sam's did--still loose enough to move in, but they hardly even needed the belt tightened to keep them up. He was just trying to see how his own backside looked in them, though he'd guess it looked like exactly what it was--practically nothing--when there was a light rap at the door.

"Yeah, come in," he called. 

Sam slipped back inside, now with a stack of shoeboxes tucked under his arm. 

"Funny thing, nobody knew what size your feet were," Sam said, setting the boxes on the foot of the bed Steve was no longer in. Steve jerked his chin up, standing as tall and straight as he could when Sam was right there being so big and strong and tall next to him. Sam gave him an up-and-down look that was still warm.

"Not quite like the other me, huh," Steve said, because there was no point pretending.

"Nah, actually I was thinking I can see it," Sam said. He sat down next to the shoeboxes, so Steve was looking down at him. "The way you stand--you _project_ , you know? Like in a way you really always were the big guy, just your body took a while to catch up."

"Yeah, my last growth spurt is just a little late," Steve agreed, and Sam grinned wider at him--still looking up at him, looking right _at_ him like he was worth the look. 

It wasn't that no one at all had ever looked at him that way before, but he couldn't think of anyone except his ma and Bucky who looked at him like that just for standing in front of them. And they were both family--Bucky was as good as, by now. With his ma gone, Bucky was all the family he had in the world.

Except that according to Bucky, Sam's ma had a picture of him on her wall, and Sam's nieces and nephews called him Uncle Steve. 

Steve took a step in toward Sam, deciding between one breath and the next. Sam knew him, and even if he'd been made into a hero he didn't think they'd made him less willing to just try for what he wanted. Sam was probably used to it. 

Sam watched him all the way in, and Steve could see when Sam twigged to what he was doing, but he didn't say anything else about what Steve shouldn't feel pressured to do. He didn't lean toward Steve or away, just sat still while Steve stepped all the way in. Steve propped one knee on the bed beside Sam's thigh and still had to bend down a little to press a curious kiss to Sam's mouth, which was crooked in a half smile. Steve's hands fell naturally to Sam's shoulders, and he got Sam's big hand on the small of his back, warm and firm. When Sam's tongue touched his lip Steve tried for more, flushing hot even as he did, knowing he wasn't much good at this, knowing--

Sam pulled back and Steve looked away. His heart was already beating fast with his daring, with Sam's hand and the touch of Sam's lips, Sam's _tongue_.

"Oh, boy," Sam said softly. "Steve--" and then Sam's other hand was on his cheek, turning him for another kiss. 

Steve let Sam lead this time, following the cues of his tongue and lips, still clumsy and half a beat behind. It was so good, thought, _so good_. It felt so _right_ \--it felt like everything he'd been waiting for. He thought his heart was going to beat its way out of his chest.

"Okay," Sam said, and this time when he broke the kiss he pressed his forehead to Steve's. Steve kept his eyes closed and stayed there, leaning into his touch. "So if I ask you if you know a guy named Eddie Zielinski..."

"Who?" Steve asked blankly. He didn't want to talk about anybody else. He didn't want to think about anything but Sam, Sam's mouth and his hands and his big body that Steve wanted to lean into and feel everywhere.

"Yeah," Sam said. "So I should tell you that we--me and the future version of you--a while back we got onto the topic of how we each lost our virginity."

Steve picked his head up, his eyes flashing wide as he met Sam's warm dark-eyed gaze. But he still wasn't laughing, or not laughing at Steve, at least.

"Yeah," Sam said again. "So if you haven't met Eddie Zielinski, then I've got a pretty good idea of all the things you haven't done with anybody yet."

Sooner or later Steve was going to run out of blushes, but he hadn't yet. "Oh."

Sam nodded, still smiling, and then Steve realized that he could see, faintly, at the tops of Sam's cheeks and his ears, a deep purple shadow under the brown--reddening, adjusting for color. Sam was blushing too. Steve grinned, realizing that they were in this together; a fully-grown man confronted with the nineteen-year-old virgin form of his lover was nearly as much at sea as the nineteen-year-old virgin. 

Sam grinned back, shaking his head. "Anyway, we can, uh--we can talk about that more later. Meantime, we should get you some shoes, maybe another few changes of clothes."

"Sure," Steve said, and turned his attention to the shoes, his stomach full of butterflies at the thought of what talking about that more might turn out to mean, later.

* * *

There were a dozen expensive-looking shopping bags in the outer room Sam led him to, all full of things for him to pack into the duffel bag waiting on the low table. Proper collared shirts and nicer pants, plus more casual stuff like what he and Sam were wearing now. He chose from a wildly unnecessary array of underwear and socks, more shoes, his choice of three watches all sized to fit his skinny wrists, and soft shapeless zip up sweaters that Sam called _hoodies_. There were no proper coats, though, and no hats.

While he was making his choices, Sam asked him, "Do you have trouble breathing these days? Bucky couldn't remember exactly--you ever have sudden attacks where you can't breathe? Asthma?"

Steve shrugged stiffly, even though Sam's voice held no judgment. "Once in a while. It happened more when I was a kid."

Sam just nodded and pulled something out of a bag. "I want to show you this, then--it's a rescue inhaler. You start to feel that in your lungs--the wheezing, the whistling--you can use this. Hold it to your mouth," Sam mimed, showing him, "press there and breathe in. It tastes pretty gross, and it might make you feel kinda shaky, but it opens your lungs up, and keeping you breathing is job one."

Steve nodded and tucked the inhaler carefully into a pocket of his pants, just in time for Sam to add with a wink, "We want to be ready before you do anything physically strenuous."

Steve blushed hot again, and without thinking he gave Sam an open-handed shove, like he would have given Bucky for teasing him like that.

He didn't have time to worry how Sam would take it, though, because Sam laughed and gave him a little shove back, enough to rock him back but not enough to knock him down. Steve shook his head and muttered, "You like red cheeks so much, you could just date somebody who wears makeup."

"Nah, I like it all-natural," Sam said easily. "More fun that way. Come on, let's roll out."

* * *

The rest of the building Sam took him out into was straight out of some impossibly sleek, smooth future, of a piece with the tiny, round-cornered phone in Steve's pants pocket. They took an elevator--smooth, quiet, brightly lit and every surface shining--down to a lobby that was full of light and open space, decorated with a few weird abstract sculptures and some plants. Everything was stark, square-edged, bright.

The cars, on the other hand, were all curves, low smooth sweeping things, and a black one with tinted windows was apparently waiting for him and Sam. 

"If you're here more than a day or two we can go back to taking the train," Sam said. "You like that."

Steve stared at him. "Why would I take the train if there's a _chauffeured car_ on offer?"

Sam laughed. "Spoken like somebody who isn't rich and famous yet. Or like Bucky, actually, Bucky still says stuff like that."

"Is Bucky rich and famous too?" Steve asked. Bucky had kind of hedged around that, but Steve hoped he was--he couldn't see any point in being rich, especially, if Bucky wasn't just as rich. 

"Bucky had a rough time on the way here," Sam said, sounding careful and diplomatic. "He's a little closer to his hard times, still."

"But he's okay now?" Steve persisted. "He's--got everything he needs, right?"

Sam smiled. "Yeah, he's all right. He's got people to look out for him--not just you, either. He's probably already holed up at Natasha's place."

Steve raised his eyebrows. Bucky'd never gone with a Russian girl that Steve had known of, and he hadn't mentioned her to Steve in the little bit of time they had. "Natasha, huh."

"She was your friend first," Sam said. "But she and Bucky have some common ground. She'll look out for him."

Steve nodded, and then his attention was caught by the people walking by outside, women flashing bare legs and practically _everyone_ with bare heads, and--everything was so different. 

It got a thousand times weirder once they got into Brooklyn, rolling down familiar streets. He would glimpse a building that looked right, that he'd just seen _yesterday_ , but then everything about it was wrong--they had the wrong shops downstairs, wrong curtains in the windows, or windows in the wrong place. There were whole blocks where everything was completely different. He checked the street signs at every intersection, but they confirmed what he already knew: he was where he thought he was, just seventy-eight years later. 

When they got into his own neighborhood Steve couldn't bear to look at all--it was so different it felt like a hallucination, like he could still see the real world through this one if he squinted hard enough. Better to look at Sam, who was watching Steve like _he_ was the most interesting thing in sight.

"This is weird," Steve confessed. "I know it's not time travel, but..."

"Might as well be," Sam agreed. "Hang in there, man, we're almost there. Maybe, uh, don't look around too much while we're going inside."

The car took a turn it shouldn't--not _that_ block--but they weren't going to the apartment he'd shared with his mom, and he was kind of glad not to see his old block in this new world. Still, the next block over was familiar enough, and he took Sam's advice and kept his head down as the car pulled up to the curb. 

"Ready?" Sam asked, and Steve shot him a glance and nodded firmly. 

Sam leaned in, kissed him hard, and then got out of the car while Steve was still staring after him, dazed. He hurried out after, and didn't see a thing on the street except Sam's back, leading him up the stoop and in. 

Inside the building there was no doubt he was in the future again. Sam led him up a flight of stairs and down another weirdly well-lit hall to the first apartment. It was the front corner, Steve calculated--there were nice windows, because he really was rich in the future, apparently. He got a glimpse of the apartment itself--spacious, but less strangely sleek than anything he'd seen yet--and then he lunged at Sam to repay that last kiss in the car.

Sam fell back from the impact of Steve's body, closing his arms around Steve and dragging him along as he staggered back until he fetched up against a wall. Sam hauled Steve up into his arms, and Steve clamped his thighs around Sam's hips. 

He kissed Sam furiously, pressing himself tightly to Sam's body. Sam kept one arm tight around his back, but the other dropped to get a handful of Steve's ass and squeezed. Steve shivered all over and let out a helpless little sound. His dick was suddenly not just hard but throbbing with it, _close_.

He shifted his weight away from Sam, but Sam kept his grip and his balance this time, pushing into a kiss. He licked into Steve's mouth exactly like he knew his way around it. His hand squeezed Steve's ass again and Steve had to tear his mouth away. 

"Sam, Sam, m'gonna--"

"First time, right," Sam sighed against his mouth. "Got you all wound up, huh? You want me to stop? Do this nice?"

Steve shook his head wildly and Sam turned them so Steve was the one with his back to the wall. Steve had barely made contact before he was pressing his shoulders into it, arching to grind his hips against Sam and get some friction on his dick. He knew he should stop--he should try to last--but Sam was kissing his throat and he had _both_ hands on Steve's ass now. 

Steve realized he could feel Sam's dick pressing against him. Sam was hard too, hard for _him_. Steve pushed into him one more time and let the overwhelming pleasure sweep over him. He came with a shuddery sob, pulsing hot into his brand-new underwear while Sam held him up.

Almost as soon as he'd come Steve realized how completely he'd just humiliated himself. He turned his face away, squirming to get down and away from Sam.

"Aww, don't be like that, Rogers," Sam murmured, pressing his lips right where Steve's face was red-hot, still keeping Steve pinned to the wall and his hands firm under Steve's ass. "If you don't think making you come just by holding you up and kissing you is the hottest damn thing I've ever seen, you haven't been paying attention."

Sam's hips rolled against him, and Steve shivered with overstimulation and helpless want--Sam was still hard. Sam still wanted him. Steve turned his head to catch Sam's mouth in another kiss, his own mouth moving soft and slow now. He was intensely aware of every motion of Sam's lips against his, the little rough catch of Sam's facial hair against his own bare skin. 

"You gonna let me take you to bed now?" Sam asked, shifting his grip from Steve's ass to his hips. Steve wrapped his legs tight around Sam again, making Sam's hips jerk in against him. 

"I mean," Sam said, his voice going gratifyingly unsteady, "we could take a breather, introduce you to modern television and junk food..."

Steve kissed Sam roughly, biting his lip mostly on purpose. "Take me to bed, Sam."

Sam laughed a little but turned at once, tightening his grip on Steve as he took his full weight. "Yes, sir."

Steve growled, but it was only another second or two before Sam was dumping him onto a wide bed. The mattress was firm but springy under him. The bedroom had windows on two sides, the blinds open so that the room was filled with light. Sam was already stripping out of his t-shirt, revealing his broad, muscular chest to Steve before he reached for the button of his jeans.

Steve bounced up onto his knees, his hands going out as he looked up to Sam for permission. Sam said, "Oh, Jesus, let me lie down if you're gonna go exploring."

Steve grinned but backed up enough to let Sam throw himself down on the bed, unzipping his jeans and shoving them down, along with his underwear, just enough to get his cock free. Steve's mouth watered and his pulse raced, and he tugged Sam's pants down further, getting them completely out of the way after a little pause for Sam to kick off his shoes, which Steve took advantage of to get rid of his own, too. 

When they got that sorted out, Sam was lying naked in the big bed. _Their_ bed, because however improbable it was, he and Steve lived here together, slept in this bed together, did _everything_ in this bed together. 

He considered stopping to ask how this worked, which way he and Sam did things--neither of them was a fairy, that much was obvious--but Steve figured that as long as he didn't know he was allowed to try whatever he wanted. Sam would probably let him. 

Right now he really, really wanted to know what it felt like to have a cock in his mouth. Sam's, specifically--it was big, lying hard against Sam's gorgeously defined abdominal muscles, blood-flushed even darker than the rest of Sam's skin. Steve was thinking of the shading and lighting angles even as he bent low, wrapping his pale fingers around the shaft. 

He stole a glance up at Sam as he opened his mouth. Sam's mouth was open too, his lips parted as he watched Steve with a gaze that was fond and hungry all at once.

Steve gave him his boldest grin and then licked around the head of his cock, getting the taste of him, which made his mouth water for more. Sam made an encouraging little sound, and Steve opened his mouth and took the head of his cock inside, sucking curiously until Sam twitched under him, making a tiny pained noise. Steve pulled back quickly, and Sam was already smiling again, cupping one hand to Steve's cheek.

"Just watch the teeth, baby," Sam said.

Steve winced. "Sorry, I--"

"Nah, hey, everybody's gotta learn somehow." Sam grinned and added, "You can kiss it better if you want."

Steve nodded solemnly and then pursed his lips, pressing light, quick kisses all over Sam's cock until Sam was squirming under him, tugging on his hair and laughing. Steve shot Sam a smirk, more confident than he felt, and tried again instead of letting Sam pull him away. He opened his mouth wide, carefully covering his teeth this time, and slid down onto Sam's cock, sucking harder this time. He bobbed up and down, trying to find a rhythm that let him breathe and suck and take more and more of Sam's cock. 

Sam was making promisingly breathless noises. His hand on Steve's cheek was gentle and encouraging, but tightened a little every time Steve went as deep as he could, when Sam's cock filled his mouth entirely. There was still a whole bunch of Sam's cock he wasn't taking--his hand was wrapped around the base and even that didn't cover it all. So on the next downstroke Steve pushed further, trying to go even deeper, swallowing around the head of Sam's cock. 

He promptly gagged and had to pull off completely. Sam's hand shifted to the back of his neck, and his other hand was on Steve's arm, bodily hauling him up to straddle Sam's hips. He'd barely gotten his breath back before Sam was kissing him, soft and careful, muttering, "You just don't know the meaning of taking it easy on the first try, do you?"

"Gotta make the first one count," Steve said, pressing into deeper kisses as he settled his hands on Sam's chest, feeling the flex of all that glorious muscle under his palms. "Might not get a second chance."

"The autobiography of Steve Rogers," Sam said under his breath, sounding amused and fond. His hands tightened on Steve's hips. "How about you let me take a turn, huh? Maybe you can pick up some pointers for the next round."

Steve ground down against Sam's belly--he wasn't all the way hard again yet, but he was getting there. "We--we do it like that? Either way?"

"Oh yeah," Sam said. "Every which way. We're both pretty flexible, so it's just a matter of who wants what when. And I'd really like to get my mouth on you, baby, if you'll let me."

Steve nodded, already skipping ahead, thinking about--"Do you--would you--"

Sam's hands stayed on his hips, and Steve couldn't help rubbing his cock against Sam even as he was struggling to form the words. Then Steve realized he didn't have to, really. He shifted backward until his ass was up against Sam's cock, wet with Steve's spit and still hard, still waiting for release. "D'you want to--I want you to."

Sam's hips jerked up under him, and just riding that motion made Steve think of what it would be like to have Sam inside him, Sam's body moving his. He felt the throb of that desire in his balls, his cock stiffening with every beat of his heart. Sam wasn't making anything of it, that Steve wanted that. He hadn't assumed he would because he was slender and small--because apparently he liked it even when he wasn't, and so did Sam.

"I would be--Jesus, Steve, you're gonna kill me and I'm gonna die happy. Yeah, of course, if that's what you want. Unless you'd rather fuck me?"

Steve couldn't help picturing it, and the pulse of desire was mixed with uncertainty this time, trying to imagine how that would _look_. Out loud he only said, "Nah, you better go first, give me some pointers like you said. I wouldn't want to hurt you."

Sam huffed and sat up, raising his hands to Steve's face to hold him still for a kiss. "You say that," Sam murmured, "but you got no idea, Rogers. You could wreck me so easy."

Steve kissed back, torn between whatever profoundly romantic thing Sam seemed to mean by that and the prospect of getting fucked for the first time ever very soon now. He rocked against Sam and sucked at Sam's tongue, and Sam finally pulled away, laughing a little. "All right, yeah, I'll get on with it. Your turn to lie back and let me explore, if you're good with that."

"I guess I can handle it," Steve allowed, his voice coming out shaky and breathless even though his lungs were working just fine. Sam kissed him again and pushed him gently over to fall to the bed on his side.

Steve looked down at the two of them lying side by side as Sam rolled over to face him. His feet were well above Sam's ankles, and he was still fully clothed except for his shoes while Sam was gloriously--magnificently--naked.

Sam distracted Steve from further comparisons with a kiss, settling his hand on Steve's side. "You wanna take some clothes off?" 

Sam didn't say it like he was prodding Steve along--more like an actual question. Steve had the feeling that if he said no, Sam would fuck him with his shirt on, or leave the whole thing until later. 

Steve sat up and yanked off his shirt before he could think about it. Moving, now that he was out of contact with Sam, made him aware that the mess he'd made of his new underwear was getting uncomfortably cool and sticky against his skin. He reached down to unfasten his jeans too, but Sam's hands covered his.

Steve looked over--and up, because Sam had sat up. He was smiling, and he leaned in to kiss Steve again. "Leave me something to do, all right? I like to feel useful."

Steve gave a helpless little laugh. That was his line--he was the one who had to fight to be treated like he had anything to offer. Sam stuck to his guns, though, gently pushing Steve to lie back down, swatting his hands out of the way. Steve grabbed the covers to keep himself still and lay back, watching Sam's big hands open his pants.

"Tell me if I do anything you don't like, okay?" Sam said.

Steve nodded agreement, but the words were mostly just noise in his ears as Sam's fingers hooked his underwear--embarrassingly obvious wet spot and all--down over his dick, which was already straining against the fabric again. 

Sam didn't touch him there right away, taking Steve's pants and underwear down until he was lying naked and exposed, stretched out on the bed. He was aching to be touched more than those glancing brushes of Sam's fingers or the indiscriminate, muffled friction that had gotten him off in the entryway. 

"You just gonna watch all day?" Steve demanded, when Sam still didn't touch him. 

Sam laughed and moved, straddling Steve's legs the same way Steve had straddled his, except that Sam was big enough to actually cover him. Steve's eye caught on Sam's cock, big and hard and wet from Steve's mouth, until Sam's hands settled on Steve's narrow hips.

Sam lowered his mouth _almost_ to Steve's cock, and Steve let out a helpless little whine, squirming under his hands.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop teasing," Sam said. "You're just so pretty when you get all worked up, baby."

Steve let out a frustrated noise, trying to cover the heat that zinged through him at Sam's words. He wasn't _pretty_. 

"You talk to me like that when I'm bigger'n you?"

"Oh, man, so much more. This is me trying to hold back," Sam said, and now his full lips were actually brushing right under the heat of Steve's cock. Steve shivered and moaned and completely forgot to argue. 

Sam finally took mercy and stopped talking, instead closing his lips around the head of Steve's cock, and all of Steve's limbs jerked at once. He made a wild, helpless noise at the heat and wetness of Sam's mouth, that first perfect suck, unlike anything he'd ever felt before. For one blind second he thought he was going to come a second time just from that, but somehow he didn't go quite over the edge. 

Sam kept sucking him, going a little lower each time, and the shocking pleasure of it settled into something Steve could almost bear. He couldn't take his eyes away from the sight of Sam's lips closed around him, his cock disappearing into the O of Sam's mouth.

Sam pulled off just when Steve was starting to really get close again. Sam's lips were shiny-wet as they stretched in a smile. 

"You want me to just finish you off like this?" Sam asked. "Or you want the whole package? Because if I'm gonna fuck you today I'm gonna take my time getting you ready."

"I," Steve said blankly. "No, I want--all of it."

Sam's smile widened. "'Course you do. You gotta be patient, then, okay?"

Steve nodded--he'd have agreed to anything if it meant _more_ \--and then Sam was licking down the underside of Steve's cock. He curled his hand around it, stroking him now that he was all slick and sensitized. 

Sam used his other hand to push Steve's thighs wider apart, and Steve obeyed the silent instruction as Sam's mouth moved lower, past the base of his cock to mouth at his balls. Steve sucked in air and trembled between the firm grip of Sam's hand and the soft, wet touch of his tongue.

"Hmm," Sam said, and Steve keened a little at the vibration of his lips.

Sam picked his head up to laugh and said, "Toss me a pillow, Steve, we gotta get the angle on this right."

Steve grabbed a pillow and flung it at Sam, not really thinking about what angle Sam was talking about. Sam's mouth was _fine_ right where it was, or at any angle at all. 

"Feet down, butt up," Sam directed, taking both hands off of Steve entirely. Steve braced on his feet and elbows and arched his back, ignoring the faint warning twinge of his spine as he bowed it. 

"Okay, relax," Sam said, hand on Steve's thigh as Steve found himself settling with a pillow under his hips. Sam closed his mouth on Steve's cock again, giving it a long, luxurious suck. Steve's ability to picture whether that made a better angle for Sam dissolved into the useless puddle of honey that his brain had become. 

Sam didn't linger long on his cock, though, and he only nuzzled at Steve's balls on his way past before his lips and tongue pressed against the spot behind, and then--

" _Sam!_ " Steve yelped, because Sam's tongue had just touched his _asshole_ , and he couldn't--couldn't possibly have meant to--to--

"Was that an _I don't like it_ yell, or a _holy fuck that's dirty do it again_ yell?" Sam inquired, rubbing his cheek against the inside of Steve's thigh. 

The rough texture of Sam's beard made it impossible for Steve to think of anything else for a few seconds, and then he realized what Sam had asked. 

"Is," he said, and then licked his lips, wondering if Sam would want _Steve_ to... "Is that second one an option?"

"I won't even make you say it out loud," Sam said, smacking a kiss against Steve's thigh before he ducked his head. 

Sam's tongue touched him again, licking and pressing softly against his ass, and Steve covered his eyes with one arm again. He was blushing hot, mortified at what Sam was doing but barely able to think beyond how good it felt, and the knowledge of what Sam was getting him ready for. Sam's tongue worked its way actually inside his ass, and Steve pushed back into that soft little penetration, moaning helplessly as he thought of how much more he was asking for. 

Sam was getting him wet, he realized, slicking him up to ease the way for his cock. Even as Steve thought it he felt the firmer touch of a finger alongside Sam's tongue. He tensed up a little, anticipating something thicker and harder pushing inside him, but Sam made a low humming noise that seemed like reassurance. His other hand worked over Steve's cock. Steve was still hard, but it didn't feel urgent, not with the distraction of what Sam was doing to his ass. 

Steve spread his legs a little wider, trying to indicate without having to summon words that it was all right for Sam to get on with it. Sam just kept kissing and licking, though. He could feel Sam's spit dripping down his crack, and he was writhing all over at the unexpected pleasure of Sam's tongue and lips touching him so intimately, in such a surprisingly sensitive place. 

Sam still wasn't satisfied, though. Sam's finger stroked over his hole, too, not pushing inside like he expected, just touching and touching and touching him until Steve thought he'd lose his mind. He couldn't hold back the noises he was making on every breath; he felt drunk on it, dizzy and disoriented and Sam hadn't even really _done_ anything yet.

Just as he was thinking that Steve felt Sam's finger dip into the soft, slick center of his hole and finally push inside. Steve jerked toward it--felt the impact as he hit Sam in the face _with his ass_ \--and felt himself go hot with a whole other kind of embarrassment. But Sam's finger inside him was moving, _stroking_ , and Sam was laughing breathlessly and kissing the base of his cock, so Steve hadn't hurt him too badly.

"S'good," Sam said, slurring a little like--like his tongue was worn out, oh God--"good to know you like it, baby. Gonna make sure you like all of this."

"Fuck, Sam," Steve gasped. Sam's tongue was on him again and Sam's finger inside him had found a spot that made him twitch and moan with the lightest pressure. "Gonna--ngh--like it right to death."

"Mmm," Sam said against his ass, _sucking_ a little at his hole and making him let out a half-strangled yell. Another fingertip was probing at him, and he wanted it, wanted more of that feeling inside him, more to squeeze down on. "S'why you got your own medic in the bed. I'll get you through it."

"Promise," Steve demanded, because he didn't know how he could go on feeling like this much longer and _not_ die from it, patient or not. His heart was beating so fast, his lungs working so hard, and for some reason none of it felt like pain, only pleasure. It was so _much_ feeling that he didn't know what to call it except that he wanted _more_.

"Promise," Sam agreed, and then he was pushing two fingers into Steve's ass, still licking and kissing, and Steve lost track of everything for a while. Sam kept touching him, wet and soft and hot outside, firm and strong and mind-bending inside, opening him and filling him up. He was shaking helplessly with this pleasure that wasn't like anything he'd ever felt before--there were flashes of it where he felt like he was going to come, but mostly his aching dick was something aside from this, almost irrelevant. 

He had no idea how much time had passed when Sam said, "Okay, baby, your turn to do the work."

Steve opened his eyes and reached for Sam as Sam moved away from him. His ass felt empty, hungry for still more attention, without Sam's fingers in him, Sam's mouth on him. Sam's lips and chin were all wet from getting him wet. 

Sam lay back on the bed and pulled Steve over to straddle him, and Steve leaned forward and kissed him hungrily before he thought twice about where Sam's mouth had just been. He didn't care, anyhow. If Sam could do that, Steve could kiss him after he had, and his tongue stroked over Sam's eagerly until Sam pushed him gently away.

"Gonna fuck you like you want, baby," Sam said. 

Steve nodded eagerly, reaching for Sam's cock and finding Sam's hand already closed tight around the base of it, making it stand up straight. Steve stroked his fingers over the head, making Sam groan. Sam reached over for the bedside table, getting the drawer open with a clumsy hand.

"You want me to use a condom?" Sam asked, his hand stirring through the contents.

Steve stared at him long enough that Sam looked up, and then Steve said, "You worried about getting me pregnant?"

It was nine-tenths a joke, and one-tenth an honest question. Had they not told him something important about that fancy heroic body they'd given him in the future?

"Naw, but you don't know--" Sam said, and then he stopped with his mouth hanging open.

After another second he shook his head, coming up with a tube of something instead. "Never mind. Not necessary. Help me get slicked up, baby, and then you're gonna take a ride."

"You already got _me_ all wet," Steve complained, trying a twisting stroke on Sam's cock that made Sam groan and push his hand away. "What d'you need more for?"

"Always more lube," Sam said firmly, squirting some clear gel into his hand and reaching between Steve's thighs to slick it all over his cock with an obscene wet sound. "Especially with a first-timer, baby. It's not supposed to hurt, okay? None of this is supposed to hurt. You tell me if it does, because I will stop and rim you into next _week_."

"No," Steve whined, drawing it out. "It's fine, I'm fine, just--give me some of that."

Sam raised his eyebrows but squirted lube into Steve's outstretched hand. Steve didn't let himself hesitate or even think before he smeared it onto his asshole and then pushed it inside with his fingers. He got himself wetter and slicker than Sam's mouth had already left him.

Sam's eyes went wide and fixed on the motion of Steve's hand between his legs, and his knuckles brushed against Sam's cock as he pulled his fingers out. "There. All wet."

Sam just shook his head, smiling slowly. "You never change, Rogers. Come here, let me--" Sam got one hand on Steve's hip, the other on his cock, and pushed him to lower himself down.

Steve couldn't help giggling at the intent look on his face--he thought suddenly of the way his own face screwed up when he was trying to thread a needle, squinting horribly. But then the head of Sam's cock touched his wet hole, and Steve's giddy laugh turned to a moan. 

He bent his legs a little further without Sam pressing him to, letting gravity force him onto Sam's cock. His breath stopped altogether at the pressure of it, the strange sensation of it pushing him open. More than fingers, more than a tongue, and there was a stretching hot ache to it but not real _pain_ , nothing that counted enough to make him want to stop. 

"There you go, baby," Sam murmured. "Your show. You take what you--"

Steve slid lower, letting out a helpless high gasp at the feeling of Sam's cock pushing deeper into him than fingers or tongue could have reached, opening him wider still. 

"Oh, fuck, fuck, you are so tight," Sam moaned. "Oh, God, baby, look at you go." 

Steve was still moving--up a little, then down, then leaning forward to brace his hands on Sam's chest. Both of Sam's hands were at his waist now, steadying him, and he took a breath and made himself relax into it, rocking his way down until there was no further to go. He was sitting on Sam's lap, Sam's cock buried to the hilt inside him.

Steve raised his head and met Sam's eyes; Sam looked dazed, almost awed, like he was looking at something beautiful, something amazing. Something heroic. 

"God almighty, Steve," Sam breathed. Then he rolled his hips under Steve, shifting his cock inside him and shaking Steve out of the concentration getting this far had required. Steve dug his fingers into Sam's chest and bit his lip to muffle the yell that wanted to tear out of him.

"Hmm," Sam said. "That sounded like a good noise, maybe I should--"

Sam's hand found Steve's cock, which had sunk to half-mast while he was concentrating on taking Sam's.

"Oh, fuck," Steve moaned. Sam's hand was still a little wet with lube, and the slick tight grip in combination with Sam's cock moving inside him drove Steve straight out of his mind. He couldn't help moving again, rising and falling on Sam's cock even as Sam thrust up under him, greedily getting pressure just where he wanted it while Sam stroked his cock. 

"M'gonna, gonna," Steve whispered, because he was getting _everything_ he wanted now, getting fucked and stroked and Sam was still looking at him like he was beautiful. He could take anything now, do anything, and he just wanted this to last, but he couldn't hold out in this onslaught of pleasure. 

"Sam," he said helplessly, "I'm--"

"Hell yes you are," Sam said breathlessly, driving up into him hard, stroking him tight. Steve let his head fall back as he came. Pleasure blotted out everything for a long moment, and when he came back to himself Sam was still hard inside him. Sam's chest was wet with Steve's come, and Sam was grinning, open-mouthed. 

Sam pushed up into him experimentally, and Steve whimpered a little, overstimulated. 

"Done?" Sam asked, and Steve immediately shook his head.

Sam pushed up to sit, and Steve wrapped his arms around Sam's shoulders, kissing him and rocking on his cock. Sam groaned against his mouth, running his hands up and down Steve's narrow back as he ground up into him, still letting Steve do the work. Every thrust made him shiver with the overblown sensation, but he kept going--Sam deserved to finish like this, after all the pleasure he'd given Steve. 

It wasn't long before Sam's hands clamped down on his hips, and Sam's thrusts up made Steve rise and fall like he was on a carousel horse for the last moment. Steve kept trying to kiss Sam's gasping mouth, and Sam was laughing a little before he groaned and fell back against the pillows. Steve could feel the throbbing of his cock as he came, and he felt sticky and sensitive and incredibly pleased with himself. He'd done that. He'd given that to Sam. Just him, just the way he was.

He scooted up, wincing a little at the sensation of Sam's cock slipping out of him. He tried to lie down at Sam's side, but Sam pulled him half on top, and that was just as comfortable. He rested his cheek against Sam's shoulder, and after a decent interval--two minutes, at least--he said, "So when you said every which way..."

"Oh God," Sam groaned. "Save me from teenaged Steve Rogers."

Steve grinned and kissed Sam's throat. "I mean, if you can't keep up with me..."

Sam growled and pulled him into a kiss, leaving him nothing to complain about.

* * *

Steve woke up and knew that something weird had happened, though it took a minute of racking his brain to figure out what. 

"Aw, man," he said, rolling away from Sam to lie on his back with one arm slung over his eyes, blocking out the embarrassment more than the morning light, which was still dim. He didn't actually have a hangover headache, but he could feel the spot in his skull where it ought to be. "Did I get magicked?"

"Well," Sam said, sounding sleepy but amused. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Steve peeked over at Sam, who was looking about thirty percent awake and...

Huh. Sam was looking the particular kind of heavy-lidded that he got the morning after they'd spent a lot of the night fucking.

Steve stretched, but as ever, his body betrayed no evidence of what it had been up to last night. 

"I remember I was training with Wanda, and I remember she said _oops_ ," Steve said. "And I remember thinking _well that's something I never want to hear again_ before I realized I was lying on the ground. And then I woke up here."

Sam nodded slowly, rubbing his neck like he did when Steve had gotten aggressive with the kissing, although Steve couldn't see if there were marks without a lot better light than this. 

"Was I, um," Steve said, rolling onto his side and reaching out to touch that spot on Sam's shoulder that he tended to bite when he got carried away. Sam twitched like it was sore. "Pushy?"

Sam snorted and flopped back down. "You owe me so much goddamn breakfast, Rogers."

Steve sat up and looked down at Sam lying there, and something went a little sideways in his brain. He'd seen this--seen Sam lying like this, in their bed like this--of course he'd seen it before, he and Sam lived together, this was their bed--but...

Sam was watching him intently. "Steve? You remember something?"

Steve shook his head, because it wasn't a memory of last night coming back to him. It was something older--much older, soft-edged and blurry like everything from before the serum made his very good memory downright photographic. 

Steve shook his head harder, like he could make things fall into place. What he was remembering was impossible. 

Well. Magic. 

"Dammit, Wanda," Steve muttered, rubbing his face instead of trying to rattle his brain into order. "How on earth..."

"What do you remember?" Sam asked setting a warm, steady hand on Steve's knee.

"I remember that when I was nineteen I traveled in time," Steve said. "I think I--Bucky told me everything that was going to happen to me, and to him, sort of. The not-too-scary version, with a happy ending. And then I came home with you..."

Steve lowered his hand and looked around the room. He'd come home to this room, this exact room--these sheets on the bed, not the striped ones. It had been that iteration of the arrangement of pictures on the wall, and the sun had been warm and bright just the way it had been the other day and would be again today. Steve swallowed a dizzy feeling of dislocation and looked over the edge of the bed and, yeah. Those were the clothes he'd been wearing when Sam brought him here eight or eighty years ago. Yesterday. 

"It happened when I was nineteen, though," Steve said, turning his gaze back to Sam, and then his whole body flushed hot at the memory of what they'd _done_. He'd lost his virginity to Sam, extravagantly pleasurably. He remembered the bewildering feeling of freedom and safety, and the way Sam had looked at him almost like he was looking at Steve now. Sam's love had been so obvious and tangible that even Steve as he'd been at nineteen hadn't failed to recognize it.

He remembered how new that had been to him a year ago, all unexpected. He remembered how precious it had been to him eight years ago, when it was the most impossible thing that had ever happened to him, even counting the time travel.

The serum hadn't happened to him yet--Eddie Zielinski's clammy, fumbling hands hadn't happened to him yet, but he remembered that too. He remembered it being his first time. Both times. 

"You were a little bit pushy when you were nineteen," Sam said, smiling lazily. "And you are definitely cooking breakfast."

"I have a magic hangover," Steve complained. "Wanda owes both of us breakfast."

"Yeah, you go ahead and tell me when you feel like eating Wanda's cooking," Sam said, shaking his head. "Also, let that be a lesson to you not to tease the magic girl about being the youngest on the team, okay? Meantime, come on over here and sleep some more. It'll seem less weird later."

"Yeah? That your medical opinion?" Steve said, even as he lay down with Sam, tangling their bodies together in the way that they fit. It had been different when he was smaller, he remembered. Sam had pulled him closer, half on top, and he hadn't been in any danger of crushing Sam with his weight. 

He kissed Sam's shoulder apologetically, and Sam chuckled sleepily. 

"That's my field triage expert opinion, yeah," Sam said. "Get some more sleep, cook me breakfast, then we can evac you to some kind of expert."

"Well," Steve agreed, closing his eyes again. Getting magicked was exhausting. "As long as we've got a plan."


End file.
